The Dead Sheep

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When we were out fishing the other day Steven stumbled upon a dead sheep. Well, when I say stumbled I mean he was fishing away happily and noticed a funny smell – a rotting sheep was amongst some reeds on the bank. We all had a good look at it through our trusty monocular (boy are we glad they came in useful) and pondered the sheep’s fate and the possible mishaps that led it to be a woolly carcass at the side of the river. Probably washed down during a spate and may well get moved further on the next time there is a lot of rain.

We all got to talking about the horrors that could occur if you did not notice the sheep and what could happen as the season progresses.

Horror One

You walk along, fail to see dead sheep, stumble and fall face first into the carcass.

Horror Two

You walk along, fail to see the wooly mass, stumble and raise hands which sink into the dead sheep’s carcass.

Horror Three

Dead sheep is washed down the river only to take up residency at the top of a very nice pool – trout then get fixated on eating maggots – you have no accurate bluebottle imitations.

Horror Four

Noticing a large amount of fly life and trout taking flies around dead sheep you cast towards it thus hooking it – on trying to dislodge your fly the dead sheep starts drifting down the current towards you.

Horror Five

You have no yarn to make an indicator and the only available wool is on the……..dead sheep.

I will give accurateÂ reports on the dead sheep’s progress as the season progresses – If it is still there.

That just brought back memories I conveniently forgot. Like the time I was fishing in the fall and fell into the carcass of a drowned deer, butt first. Extrication was somewhat unpleasant.

THEN there was the time I was fishing and was only hoping that the thing I was dragging up on the end of my fly line was JUST a dead sheep…or deer. IT wasn’t. It was BUBBA, wearing nothing more than a few boxes worth for flies. That pool is now known among my closest angling buddies as the Hoffa Pool.